Surrealism
by FatesofConquest
Summary: Sometimes there was a voice, telling him to fight, push forward, keep moving. To never give up. But now it was silent. And he was tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of being alone.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello~ This is Fates here and my first contribution to this lovely site, despite its disparaging subject matter. I hope you all enjoy!**_

 _ **Disclaimer~ Young Justice and its characters do not belong to me.**_

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It was surreal sometimes, the way life could twist and turn like a bird in flight, rise and plummet like the swell of a wave in the middle of the sea. The unpredictability, some would say it made life worth living, an adventure to enjoy through thick and thin. Others would say how difficult and harrowing the challenges sudden change could bring.

He just found it funny.

Funny how his life could go from being a circus acrobat with a loving family to a broken orphan within a day.

Hilarious how he thought could achieve justice through becoming a hero, using the moniker Robin as a tribute to his dead mother.

Simply a riot how he thought he had actually found a new family within the Justice League and the Team, each helping to fill the void his dear family had left.

Amusing the way it all fell apart. The arguments with Bruce. Jason and Tula dying. Kaldur going undercover. His plan. His mistake. Artemis and Wally leaving the Team. And the clincher, Wally, _Wally_ dying.

The real joke was the way everything had fallen apart after that, though. He left the Team thinking that would help.

Wrong.

He increased the time he spent on the streets of Bludhaven, patrolling as Nightwing almost every hour his civilian side didn't demand, hoping it would help him find peace.

Hopeless of course.

His routine slipped, broke, cracked, days filled with a stumbled haze, half-eaten meals, and unspoken screams, nights thick with blood, pain, and living nightmares.

Bruised ribs, split lips, blood caked knuckles, and countless scrapes, cuts, and bruises, left untreated in favor of a half-baked sleep filled with fading speedsters yelling accusations, the dim sound of ringing phones unsettling an already restless sleep.

Still, never had it crossed his mind that it would end like this, a truly hysterical end to his pathetic life.

A rooftop, as true to his high flying nature, was, of course going to be involved. An unknown villain stalking and ambushing him, scissor kick to the head dazing the already exhausted hero. The roof tilting on an axis beneath him as he tried to recover, shaking the cotton from his head as his opponent calls a muted challenge, eerily familiar as, quick and teasing as a mythical faerie, a punch is delivered to the same spot of origin as the first hit, world flashing blue as his eyes are knocked skyward to the smoggy skyline.

Again a weak recovery, hands moving in a protective X to block the next strike to the chest, but the obvious feint slips past the guard, another brutal blow sent towards his face, this time the stars merely metaphorical as he reels from the strike, barely able to see the blurred orange, black, and gray shape facing him. A concussion had already set in or perhaps worsened from a forgotten blow from the near past, injuries, events a single entity in his hazy memory.

A quick strike to chest, jab to the ribs, sweeping kick to the legs, acrobat's movements slow and sluggish in response.

How odd it was he found himself slowly not caring.

Each blow seemed to sap another ounce of his will to live, the supply already at an all-time low after the series of tragedies that seemed to saturate his young life.

And how entertaining it was that an echo of arguments that seemed to follow each footstep he took, flashbacks to when a certain redhead was still around, yelling at him, furious and loud, but alive. Beyond a hologram, beyond a tribute, beyond a memory.

The next attack lands unburdened, no defense even raised, and the rain of blows that follow land similarly, insults falling on deaf ears. The barrage of abuse continues to fall, an accompanying symphony of self-inflicted mental abuse joining in as well as more voices join the first, shouting, laughing, and jeering as he's pushed back, the edge becoming dangerously close.

But it wasn't that easy, never was, never would be, tormentor taking great joy in dangling him close to the edge before tossing him back to the center again to begin anew.

Insults, accusations, blow after blow, fell, smashed, whirled, but he didn't care as the latest kick sent him rolling, arm dangling uselessly over the cityscape below, blood dripping from a fresh cut delivered who knows when. Hardly felt it as his attacker, familiar for sure, lifted him by the neck, entirely detached from his instincts and usual thirst for knowledge.

"The great Nightwing reduced to this. Pathetic to say the least but pays well none the less." The assailant taunts, hanging the part-time hero over the side, the dull roar of traffic fading in and out of pounding ears.

And with that the release.

Plummeting.

Plunging.

Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Just like his parents.

Just like how it always should have been.

Just like everyone wanted.

And for the first time in a long on he felt at peace, the noise in his head fading to static, flashes of memory fading to a dull gray.

No life flashing before his eyes, regrets having already haunted him up until this point.

No last minute revelations of things he should live for, fight for.

Nothing as his back slammed to the ground, bones shattering into a million pieces like his parents before him.

Nothing that is except a wisp of ever familiar red locks, a flash of bright green, the echo of the edge that he had truly fallen over.

Simply a faint whisper of words as the light, his life, faded into nothing.

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 _ **I'm considering an alternate (happier) ending if anyone is interested, please just let me know! This will also be posted to my account on ArchiveOfOurOwn if that is anyone's preferred format. ~**_

 _ **~Fates**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Hello everyone!~ I did my best with a happier ending but I don't like it quite as much as the original. Hopefully, you guys feel differently, or at least enjoy it! Also a quick thank you for the feedback, it really does mean a lot! :)_**

 ** _Disclaimer~ Young Justice and its characters do not belong to me._**

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 _No last minute revelations he should live to for fight for._

Yet there was no bone-shattering collision. A collision yes, but a warm envelope of arms instead, the surge of blurring upwards momentum dazing him even more completely as he tried to regain his bearings.

"Yeah know these roles are usually reversed." An ever familiar voice says, notes of worry and playful joking battling for dominance in his words.

He blinks at him dumbly, surroundings a blur. Superspeed? Arms, yellow and red, Kid Flash. There was the faintest stir of hope, quickly squashed.

"Bart?"

"Ouch! Now I'm wounded." The world stops moving quite so quickly, brush of air unobstructed, betraying a rooftop above the city streets. He's placed down, gently, gingerly, the kind of touch that he had missed, craved, _needed,_ so desperately. The support doesn't leave, lingering, there, present. "Come on Wing-Nut, remember me now?"

His breath caught, eyesight waving in and out. It couldn't be real, was he alive, dead, some hell or heaven in between?

"Wally?"

"The one and only." That hit him harder than the punches, colors flaring in and out of intensity (was that in his head, he didn't know). "Woah, easy there dude, I don't need you falling off of another rooftop on me."

"But you… I saw you-!"

"Disappear, I know. But it wasn't actually death, just this crazy speedster thing called the Speedforce." His eyes rake up and down the redhead, looking for something out of place, some giveaway that this wasn't a fake, this was real, _Wally was real._

"You're alive… Artemis-" He's cut off again.

"Knows and only kind of tried to kill me for 'dying.' When she was done yelling she told me about you, though, do you need a new phone?" He hadn't used his own in ages, dead in the corner of his room.

"What? No?"

"Then try picking yours up everyone once and awhile! The Team misses you! And don't get me started on what Bats would think of all of this!"

"Of what?"

"Of what?! You look worse than Roy did! Christ Dick," Wally leans closer to whisper his name, eyes shining with worry. "Have you been trying to get yourself killed? I almost didn't make it… God, what if I didn't make it." His breath catches in his throat, seeing the shine in Wally's eyes. Last time he had seen that was when the redhead was screaming at him emotions as high as the stakes after Artemis went undercover.

"I'm sorry." The words were soft, weak, shaky. He knew what that felt like, more than his fair share by far, the hurt still raw. He never even thought about inflicting it on others. There was the slightest pause, a brush of wind hitting him from the opposite way before warmth hits him again, wrapping around him as arms.

"So am I, I didn't mean to leave you like that. And for everything before that, I know you were just doing your best and damn it, your best saved the day."

"It didn't save my best friend…" Wally's arms tighten slightly, almost to the point of pain.

"Remember what you told me when we first started out? When we lost a civilian?" He nods, just slightly, but Wally continues. "Not everyone can be saved, not every hero gets to live."

"You were retired."

"I came out of it by choice, it was my choice to do what I did."

"I never wanted to give everything for the mission." The air was tense for a moment, thoughts filtering back to young Robin and Kid Flash, the originals, the dream team, admitting out loud, for the first time, their fears.

"You didn't give everything, it may have felt like it, but no part of your mission cost lives. It risked them, that's the business, but we all came out alive, even me. And most importantly you care, it tore you apart. You are different Dick, don't forget that. Just come back. Our family misses you." Something broke, shattered, in him. He started to cry and shake, lungs filled with cotton balls that stifled his breathing. He almost died, splat all over the sidewalk. Like his parents. He almost did that to everyone he cared about, if not for Wally, who was supposed to be dead, he would have.

The redhead holds him, murmuring soft words of nonsense, lost on him in his clouded head, until he finally calms. He hadn't even realized that his legs had gone down, the two kneeling on the roof, Wally practically holding him up.

"Better?" He wasn't sure to what extent.

"Better. I'm glad you're back."

"Me too, now come on, we better get you cleaned up so you don't give the Team a heart attack." They both stand again, finally pulling apart. There was a shaky smile on one face, confident and bright one on the other. "You good enough for old times or do I have to carry you?" The shake becomes a little more confident, a little more like good memories.

"I could beat you if I wanted to." Wally's grin widens, pulling his goggles down over his eyes, shiny with excitement.

"I'd like to see you try Wonder Boy." They were away into the night, not fixed. But better. At least there was that.

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 ** _Thanks for reading everyone! Hope you all enjoyed!_**

 ** _~Fates_**


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